“Our ships are on every sea,
Our honor has never a stain,
Our law and our commerce are free,
Are we slaves for the tyrant of Spain?
No, no, no, no!
Great enthusiasm greeted this patriotic song, and the minstrel was eagerly besought to sing again, but he steadfastly refused, and went his way unrecognized.
Meanwhile, in another part of Brussels, Baron Berlaymont was taking his nephew to task.
“My dear Hugo,” said the Baron, “I have noticed for some time, with considerable surprise and displeasure, your growing intimacy with the young advocate Chenoweth. I have been waiting for your accustomed good sense to assert itself, and show you that this young man was not a suitable companion for you. You will please me greatly by breaking off this acquaintance at once.”
There was a striking resemblance between uncle and nephew despite the difference in their ages. But the expression of these two faces was totally unlike. On the face of the “Tiger of Brussels” lay the shadow of fierce, unholy passions, which neither his self-command nor his freezing hauteur could conceal. Hugo’s face was as frank and open as the day.
“Conrad Chenoweth is well spoken of,” said the
